


destruction, decay, and desire

by exarite



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Casino Royale (2006), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Choking, Face Slapping, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, Royale Instinct, Violence, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/pseuds/exarite
Summary: Le Chiffre is dangerous, Adam can tell. He looks like he’d enjoy slapping Adam around a little.Lucky for him, Adam likes that.::Sometimes, Adam Towers just wants to feel alive.
Relationships: Le Chiffre/Adam Towers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	destruction, decay, and desire

**Author's Note:**

> hm. some basic knowledge of the canon for basic instincts and casino royale is needed for this fic.
> 
> also this is unbeta'd :-)

"You've got quite the mouth on you, Mr. Towers."

Adam grins. Bares his teeth. "You like my mouth," he taunts, voice airy. He flips his hair back to toss a coy look over his shoulder, and he knows he looks good. "Don't deny it, love."

A solid smack on his ass has his back arching, a choked gasp escaping him. A hand tangles into his curls, wrenching his hair back to expose his neck, and Adam groans.

"I like your mouth better when it's occupied," Jean Durant says dryly, and Adam can do nothing but laugh even as he moans. Jean fucks into him harder, his grip on Adam's hair and hip bruising. The smack of his hips against Adam's ass is loud, the squelch of lube obscene. Adam feels overheated, his chest flushed and his nipples are red and raw.

Jean pulls out only to toss Adam on his back, and Adam lands with a mess of limbs, snickering and altogether too pleased with himself. He spreads his legs and lets Jean hitch up his knees, all the way up to his chest.

Jean slaps him, and Adam gasps in surprise at the bright burst of pain, his cock twitching. He arches his back only for Jean to wrap a hand around his throat and Adam keens.

He feels his thighs strain with the stretch, the uncomfortable, glorious pressure of Jean's hand around his throat and—

He's never felt more alive.

*

The knocking on Adam's door startles him, and he finds himself tensing, his breath going shallow. His hands flex against his keyboard keys, and warily, slowly, he stands. He hadn't heard any footsteps, nothing to indicate an incoming visitor.

"Who is it?" he calls out. There's no answer, and Adam reaches over to grab the pepper spray by the side of his desk.

He keeps it at his side, his heart in his throat, as he inches closer towards his door. Paranoid, maybe, as it's only 6 PM, but Adam has earned the right to be paranoid after what he's been through.

Adam peeks in the hole of the door, and he tenses for entirely different reasons. He hurriedly opens it, his eyes wide, lips parted and—

"Jean?" he says in disbelief, and Le Chiffre tilts his head in greeting.

"Mr. Towers," Jean says, voice low and smooth.

"What are you doing here?" he hisses, straightening up. The fear has dissolved entirely, but his skin still feels tight, replaced with a different sort of tension.

“Are you going to let me in?”

Adam wavers, caught between indecision and simple, bone-deep pleasure at the sight of Le Chiffre. He lets himself fall into relieved pleasure, his shoulders slumping.

Jean reaches out towards his neck, and despite himself, Adam flinches, hand flying out to intercept, holding and gripping tight until he can feel the bones of Jean’s fingers grind.

Jean’s expression shifts. If he was anyone else, Adam would almost describe it to be regretful.

“May I touch you?” Jean says kindly—too kindly, such a stark contrast to the roughness Adam is all too accustomed from him. He bristles, his hackles rising at how he’s being treated like fine glass, but Jean doesn’t draw away.

They stare at each other, an impasse. Adam reaches up, a self-conscious touch to his scarf to make sure his neck’s still covered, before his hand drops, Jean’s along with it.

“Do what you wish,” he says, voice raspy and low. He does his best to sound bratty, to tease, because he knows all too well how much Jean likes that. But Jean doesn’t take the bait, his expression unchanged, still much too pitying.

Adam hates it, and he ducks his head, his jaw tight. He doesn’t flinch when Jean reaches up again with both hands this time, but it’s a near thing. It’s only with a significant amount of self-control that he even manages not to.

Gently, Jean unwraps his green scarf to reveal Adam’s bare neck. His breath stalls. Adam closes his eyes. He shudders under the weight of Jean’s now stormy, mismatched gaze.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles, and he squeezes his eyes closed.

Jean hums. It's almost dismissive, and Adam feels his shoulders rise in defensiveness, however small the slight. Jean rewraps Adam's green scarf, covering up the ugly bruising. Neither of them are strangers to the bruises and marks left after rough sex, but the extent of the damage on Adam's neck is unparalleled.

He almost died from it, after all.

He isn't surprised when Jean pulls him into a kiss, and Adam throws himself into it.

"You disappeared," Adam murmurs bitingly into Jean's lips. "It's been a while since I've last seen you. Where have you been, Le Chiffre?"

"Nowhere," Jean replies somberly, pulling back to nip at Adam's jaw. Another, and another, up near his ear before he murmurs, "Everywhere."

Adam chokes out a laugh. "As usual, then."

"I'm here now," Jean tells him, gripping onto Adam's hips. "I heard what happened."

It's only been days since The Incident. Jean's network certainly worked fast.

"I don't want to talk about it." Adam aches, from his cock to his chest. He feels dull and needy and clingy, all the things he hates. He's never been the one to get attached, always a little flighty, a little slutty, and a lot undependable if it wasn't about work.

He and Jean aren't even exclusive; they're the farthest thing from it. Adam hasn't seen him in months.

And yet Adam can't help but hold onto him, curling his fingers into the black button-down Jean favors, his breathing going fast and shallow. He doesn't want to let go. Jean is the only thing holding him down and keeping him from drifting off into the night air. He's unmoored, disconnected, and the world around him holds an unreal, plastic quality.

He's afraid that if he reaches out, everything will just dissolve and slip through his fingers.

He doesn't need to.

Jean reaches out for him, and for the first time in days, Adam feels revived.

*

The first time Adam hears about Le Chiffre, he thinks nothing of it.

He's a young journalist chasing after a story, barely out of uni. Poker star Le Chiffre just happens to be his story; what more needs to be said? Honestly, he doesn't think it's much of one, thinks it's just a quick piece about a game he knows and cares little about. Le Chiffre is just a minor celebrity for Adam to do some cursory research on, pick out the best parts about his little known background, and tada! There's your piece.

It's better than the garden variety fluff pieces Urbane Magazine's been making him do, so Adam isn't complaining quite as much as he wants to. If Adam has to pad his resume with pieces like these, then Adam will until he gets a meatier story. Either by his own work or by Urbane Magazine's design.

He's supposed to be an investigative journalist. Adam wants to write stories about the things he cares about. Interesting things. Scandalous things.

As it turns out, when Adam actually gets an interview with the man post-poker game, the most scandalous thing in store this night is just how bloody attractive Mr. Le Chiffre actually is.

No, Adam quickly corrects himself, his throat dry. He takes a slow sip from his cocktail, eyes half-lidded as he smiles slyly up at Le Chiffre. The most scandalous thing in store for tonight is just how many times Adam can come with Le Chiffre's cock up his ass.

“What is it you do, when you’re not dominating poker games?” Adam smiles winningly.

“I’m a banker,” Le Chiffre tells him, folding his hands on top of his knee.

Adam’s been told his writing’s sloppy, but he’s never gotten shit about the contents of his articles. Half of that is because Adam’s got excellent sources. The other half is because Adam’s talented at sniffing out liars.

Le Chiffre isn’t lying. He’s certainly a banker, but something tells Adam there’s more to it. A simple banker would not have so many bodyguards. Or henchmen. Whatever it is people call them these days.

Le Chiffre is dangerous. Adam can tell. He looks like he’d enjoy slapping Adam around a little.

Lucky for him, Adam likes that.

Adam leans in closer, slides his leg nearer towards Le Chiffre until it's impossible to ignore, a solid line of heat. He tilts his head, eyes heavy with alcohol and arousal. Le Chiffre raises his eyebrow, that eye of his unnerving but something about it still undeniably attractive.

"Do you usually seduce the people you interview?" Le Chiffre asks, voice low. His severe features are so striking, an unconventional, unforgettable sort of attractiveness.

Adam wets his lips. "Only if they look like you."

Le Chiffre tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. He's amused. And yet Adam can tell he's interested.

Adam's smile widens and he leans in even further, unsurprised when Le Chiffre reaches up to tug lightly at his green scarf, twining it around his long, elegant fingers. Adam wants him to yank it harder, wants Le Chiffre to choke him with his scarf or his cock. Bind his wrists and have his dirty way with him.

There's something about a chase that thrills Adam. The hunt for a thrilling story, the slow—or quick, Adam isn't picky—seduction of a man or a woman.

There's nothing like a chase to make him feel like he's living.

*

“I’ve missed this,” Adam mutters, more to himself as he climbs into Jean’s lap. _I’ve missed you_, he doesn’t let himself say. He's never told Jean he loves him. He's not going to start now.

"Insatiable slut," Jean tenderly croons into his temple, his hand reaching up to yank Adam's hair. Adam groans, shuddering as Jean noses his scarf down and mouths at the bruises of his neck. It's still tender, hasn't been healing the way Adam expected it to, but the ache of Jean's mouth adding to them is arousing.

"As if you haven't been getting fucked on the regular," Jean continues, slapping his cheek gently in rebuke. Adam's eyelids flutter, his lips parting around a soft whine. Jean bares his teeth and slaps him again, a little harder, eyes narrowed. "Haven't you?"

"I haven't," Adam protests. He throws his shirt away, and Jean's hands are immediately on his chest, playing and pulling on his necklaces. Adam gives him a coy smile, wrapping his arms around Jean's neck. "I haven't been with a man in months."

"But plenty of women."

It's not a question. It's alright. Jean doesn't sound offended. Adam is plenty of things, but he isn't a cheat. All his lovers know they aren't the only ones.

"What matters is that I haven't been with someone like you in a while," Adam tells him, poking out his tongue. He traces the buttons of Jean's black button-down, eyes shadowed. "Someone to hurt me the way I like."

Jean's gaze feels like it's burning on his neck, an unasked question in his eyes, and Adam playfully glares, even as his teeth clench at the memory of pure fear.

"Someone I can trust to hurt me," Adam amends, "without taking it too far."

That's not even true. Adam's still afraid of Le Chiffre on most days. There's tempered violence mixed with paranoia that lives underneath Le Chiffre's skin. He's a dangerous man to be involved with.

And yet, for all the uncertainty that Le Chiffre poses, Adam isn't afraid of Jean.

"Come on," Adam goads, unbuttoning Jean's top, revealing his greying chest hair. Adam's mouth waters at the very sight of it. "Fuck me. Hurt me."

Jean does as he's told.

He pulls Adam's arms behind his back until his shoulders ache, fucks into him with minimal preparation. It burns in all the best ways, Adam twisting away as he cries out and sobs, face pressed into his wooden floors.

Pain and pleasure cross, ramping each other up, and Adam can barely breathe with the hard thrusts into his abused hole. He feels tender and swollen, Jean literally fucking him open. Jean's hand is in his hair, yanking it until Adam is cross-eyed, only able to whimper in pleasure.

Jean bites down on his shoulder, his teeth breaking skin. Blood wells up, and Adam gasps.

Jean pulls away, wraps an arm around Adam's chest, and lifts Adam up, his back pressed to Jean's chest. Jean nuzzles the side of his face, his thrusts slowing, and Adam's head drops.

His cheek is tender where it's been pressed against the floor. Through the tears hazing his vision, he sees the blood from his shoulder drip down his chest, a single drop landing on the wood.

Jean wraps a hand around his cock and strokes him through an orgasm. Adam tightens around him, shivering, his hands grappling onto Jean's strong arm for balance. Every muscle in his body tightens, a low groan shaking its way out of his throat before he comes.

Blood and semen mix, and Adam stares, detached and breathless, relishing in the pain and the aches of his protesting body. It's proof he isn't dead.

*

“What brings you to London?”

“I’m here for you.”

“You’ve been away quite a while. Is being a banker keeping you that busy?” Adam’s voice is dry. They both know that Le Chiffre is far from a simple banker with a gambling hobby.

"Other things are." Le Chiffre's tone is dismissive, and well, that's the end of that convo.

Plenty of people have told Adam he's too curious for his own good, and that he doesn't know when to stop, but Adam likes to think that Le Chiffre's gotten him well trained enough to know when to shut up.

Adam wets his lips. He's also aware that he's only talking so much because he's nervous.

Le Chiffre glances over his shoulder, his eyes piercing. "Are you afraid?" he asks. Adam thinks either answer would please him.

"I'm bloody terrified," Adam says honestly, pulling on his restraints. "I'm also turned on as hell."

Le Chiffre smiles at that, all teeth. It shouldn't be as arousing as it is. Adam has known he was a sadist for a while, but he didn't quite realize how much of one.

"Fear is good," Le Chiffre tells him as he rummages through his bag. Adam watches his back, the strong, masculine lines of it. "Gets the blood pumping."

Le Chiffre turns, and Adam's eyes widen at the sight of the whip in his hands. Adam shudders in an instinctual reaction. He presses his thighs together, and he would absolutely deny it, but a small whimper escapes him.

Le Chiffre is going to destroy him.

"I'm pretty sure that's not true," Adam rasps conversationally. "Cortisol and stress are bad for you, I hear."

"If you're afraid," Le Chiffre continues, snapping the whip on his hand, loud and sudden, "then it means you're alive."

*

Adam takes the time to just breathe for a moment. He hasn't given himself the time to do so since the Incident.

It's nice, he reflects, closing his eyes. Jean's hand is curiously gentle where it's stroking through his curls, petting him like an animal that needs to be gentled. He turns his head towards it, his breathing evening out.

When he reaches out, Jean reaches back, squeezing once, twice, in response, before he lets go. Adam's hand drops to Jean's chest.

"It's time to go, Adam," Jean gently says, and Adam falters from where he's tracing patterns over Jean's chest hair.

"Time to go where?"

"You know."

Adam opens his eyes, his chest tight, and he draws back. He curls his fingers inward and looks down. He feels small, childlike.

"I don't want to go," he says half-heartedly. He bites his bottom lip as he sits up, and Jean follows.

Jean reaches out, touches his hands again, and it's a comforting anchor just when Adam desperately needs one. Adam stares at their hands, and looks up, swallowing harshly.

"Is that where you've been, all this time?" Adam asks softly. He reaches out, his face pinching, and gently touches Jean's face. His cheeks. His lips and his nose. His forehead, and the bloody hole in the center of it.

He remembers now, the article that came out from Montenegro. Le Chiffre doesn't lose in poker, except for when he does. And, it turns out, he ends up losing everything else as well.

"Sometimes. I've been waiting for you."

"Give me a few more days," Adam whispers, but Jean shakes his head.

"It's been weeks already, Adam."

And he knows it's true. Adam reaches up to his throat, to the bruises that haven't healed, and thinks about the endless cyclic rut he's been in. Jean is the first visitor he's had since the Incident. The only visitor.

The last visitor.

"I'm terrified," Adam says honestly, and Jean tilts his head.

"I'll be with you."

Adam takes a breath. He reaches out.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Next to Normal's "I'm Alive" :) yes, i think im funny. pls let me know if this is missing tags! wasn't sure how to tag without spoiling.
> 
> i started writing this fic august 21, 2019..... it's evolved a lot. it was just supposed to be a smutty oneshot.
> 
> i'm on twitter as _exarite !


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